Less Than Human
by FireFeline
Summary: (Geneshaft fanfic) Mario Musicanova and Jean Gedoux knew each other in their academy days. Mario grew up and eventually became sub-captain of the Bilkis. Jean never grew up and became captain of the Yoki. Warning: Possible shonen-aiyaoi andor dark fic
1. Jean 's the Best

Less Than Human  
by: FireCatRich  
  
Summary: (Geneshaft fanfic) Mario Musicanova and Jean Gedoux knew each other in their academy days. Mario grew up and eventually became sub- captain of the Bilkis. Jean never grew up and became a captain of the Yoki. Warning: Possible shonen-ai/yaoi and/or dark fic, you have been warned!  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own Geneshaft or any of it's characters!  
  
AN: Well after watching Geneshaft the whole way through I found some characters that I just couldn't leave alone.  
  
Chapter 1: Jean 's the Best  
  
He was the best. His demonic red eyes danced as strode down the hall way. He was the best at the academy. He could see the gathering of other students, of scum, trying to see their pathetic scores that were about to be put up on the gigantic screen that was the wall of the hall. He was the best in the world. Not bothering to search for his name, he look at the first name that was put up, the highest score. Jean Gedoux, that was him, he was the best ever. Running a hand through his short, two-toned hair he watched them seethe and squirm like the worms they were. They edged away from him. His very presence put many of them on edge. A toothy grin rapidly spread across his fine featured face. The blood red and snow white of his mane was unmistakable, anyone who was anyone knew who he was. Even if he was forced to wear the same plain navy uniform as the rest of these scum, he would not be mistaken as one of them. Despite his slim built and minimal stature, no one dared mess with him. He turned to leave, he had confirmed what he knew all along.  
A mummer swept through the crowd as the second name was put up on the display. Someone else had a very high score. Jean pause mid stride. A high score, some competition from this scum? His grin grew wider, transforming into a psychotic smile. Turning back to the test scores, he read over the offender than dare try to challenge him, Jean the best. Mario Musicanova. He repeated the name over and over in his head like a mantra. Brushing the white bangs out of his crimson eyes, Jean laughed to himself.  
Pausing, he could feel someone watching him. Composing himself first, Gedoux casually looked around. Someone else was standing in the back of the crowd, removed from the press of bodies. Dark eyes met his scarlet glare. For a moment they watched each other. 'Mario Musicanova ,' his mind echoed. Mario was the first to look away. 'Heh, he is scum just like the rest of them.' Jean watched him go. 'Jean is the best. Jean has to be the best.'  
Finding his hands had gone to the double row of gold disks which were his ever growing collection of medals, he nervously rub his thumb over their slick surfaces. 'Jean has to be the best or no one will listen to him.' This Mario had gotten under his skin. How dare he crowd Jean. Everyone one was talking about Mario. About how good Mario did. 'What about Jean? Jean got the best score. Why isn't anyone talking about how good Jean was?' His hands had begun to shake. 'Jean is the best!' Clenching his fists, one of the half dozen metal disks came free from his jacket and bit deeply into his palm. Pain. He finally stopped staring after Mario to look at his throbbing right hand. 'Scum, its your fault... It's Mario's fault...'  
  
To Be Continue...  
  
AN: Sorry about the short first chapter, but please read and review! 


	2. Think Different

Disclaimer: I don't own Geneshaft or any of it's characters!  
  
AN: Before I go any further I would like to take this time to warn everyone that this fic will contain spoilers from here on out!  
One thing I find different about Jean's character is he talks to himself and often in third person. I don't know, that's just one of the things that caught my attention when I watched the series.  
  
Chapter 2: Think Different  
  
The sun speckled walk way surrounded by buildings of a bygone era was vacant save for a fuming Jean. The majority of the students were at lunch. Jean found himself better suited to wandering the halls than to sit alone at an empty table in the corner of the dinning hall. 'I wouldn't be able to stand their annoying conversations anyway.' Mario had been the talk of the campus for two days now. The only time he was mentioned was in relations to how close Mario was. Grinding his fingers against the medal he had snapped apart from its pin a few days prior, he stalked the halls with a fury that would make everyone take the long way around to get out of his way. He had superior genes, superior skills, and got the highest scores; what more could he do?  
The clear sunny day seemed to only darken his mood. They would have physical training later in the afternoon. The only thing he could not change, his stature. Despite his superior genes, Jean was still small in comparison to his class mates. 'Inferior scum!' He cursed them all. He wasn't jealous. How could he be jealous of scum? He was the best, right? No matter how close Mario or anyone else came, Jean was still the best.  
Straightening his shoulders, he absently smoothed a tuft of his wild hair. Of corse Jean was the best. The hollow thunk of approaching footsteps brought him from his brooding. The lone set of steps echoed off the surrounding buildings. Standing in the shadow of a pillar, he waited to see who it was before making himself known. He didn't need the drowning, broken record congratulations from his teachers. His teachers... they were scum too.  
The up beat steps slowed, pausing. 'They are so close, four meters- five tops.' Peering from the relative safety of the pillar, Jean found himself watching his rival. Mario had taken the time to admire the beautiful day. The standard uniform clean and pressed, he shouldn't have expected any less from his competition. Clenching his fists, Jean watched, his mind calculating, plotting. Following the gold trim of the collar down his chest Jean scoffed, 'He has no skill badges.' Fingering the medal that had grown warm in his grip he set his plan into action.  
A low ring broke the silence as the metal disk went rolling across the pavement, hitting its mark, Mario's shoe. 'That's right, Jean 's the best,' he cheered internally. Quickly straightening his jacket and placing a hand on his hip, making himself look confident, even so far as arrogant. His mask, a mask he used so often it was more of a second skin fell into place. Mario's dark eyes first went to the coin like medal, his curiosity making him pause before picking it up. Visually followed its trail back his deep eyes fell upon Jean.  
"You must be Mario," Jean started acting as casually as he could manage. "You have very good skill ratings. Almost as good as Jean in sixty- two out of sixty-three tests. No one has ever been able to crowd Jean so closely before." Letting a smirk tip the corner of his lip, Jean waited for Mario's reaction. 'Get angry just like everyone else. Come on, just like all the other scum.' The red-head found his fingers digging into his coat, creasing it as the other started to smile. 'That's not in Jean's plan!' Keeping himself in check, Jean continued, "Jean 's the best you know. Only one can be the best and the rest are scum."  
"I don't think that way," Mario fidgeted, but never lost that little smile he had when he had gained during the conversation. Tilting his chin slightly upwards for added effect, Jean waited for the anger to boil in his rival. Turning away, 'the final blow,' Jean applauded his own performance as he started to walk away. Cooly, Mario looked down at the medal in the palm of his hand.  
"You can keep it, I have a lot of those," Jean paused, 'it's not like scum like you will get any on your own.' Unsure he could keep the celebrating smile and cheers in check much longer, he risked it by turning around, he want to miss his reaction. Turning nonchalantly around, all thoughts of celebration vanished as he saw Mario advance on him. A smile on his own youth full lips, Mario was still unruffled.  
"That's ok, I'll earn my own." The dark haired boy slipped the medal into the breast pocket of the other's jacket. Jean was frozen in place. It was Mario's turn to turn to walk away. 'He's not angry? He didn't keep Jean's medal? Was he ignoring me? Jean 's the best! Everyone has to listen to Jean!' Slack hands became ridged, balled into white knuckled fists as he watched him step away. 'Jean's the best! You are just scum!' He could feel his eyes becoming moist, tears threatening to form. 'You are all scum!' Charging after the retreating youth, Jean wasn't sure what he was about to do, his body moving more on its own than by his direction. Mario started to turn back towards him, hearing the running steps behind him.  
A spray of blood misted the humid summer air as fist met face. Taking a haltering step back to catch his balance, Mario's knees started to get weak. The world seemed out of focus for a few seconds, his hand had instinctively been raised to prod the tender flesh. The copper taste in his mouth and the small stream of blood from his nose seemed foreign, belonging to a different body as his eyes came back into focus. His dark eyes wide, pupils slightly dilated Mario turned to look at his attacker, only to find he had to look up into his face.  
'I-I really hit him,' Jean looked first to Mario then to his blood speckled fist. 'He looks afraid now... because I hit him? Ha! That is what scum get for not listening to Jean!' Flashing his psychotic smile, Jean felt power flow into him. 'Scum deserve to feel pain!' Mario faulted before standing to his full height, a few inches above Jean. It was really unheard of for one person to strike another. There wasn't any punishment for it, it just wasn't done.  
The sensation of power that had initially run through Jean began to dim as Mario stood his ground. 'Why isn't he running away?' He could feel the muscles in his legs start to twitch with anticipation. 'If he's not going to run... is he going to fight?' Jean took half a step back, his body screaming at him to run. 'I-I'm not afraid! I-I ha-have power. Je-Jean is, Jean is the best.' He drew his smile in a bit more. 'I ha-have a dis... I have a disadvant-advantage. I may not-I can't win.' Despite being only a few inches taller, Mario out weighted Jean by almost twenty pounds. Jean found himself cursing his slight build for the second time that day.  
Mario watched the emotions play across his opponents face. His glare making the other only retreat further. Quickly collecting his calm visaed, Mario could see the psychological damage Jean was causing on his own. Wiping the blood on his dark sleeve, he let himself resume is journey across the court yard, leaving Jean frozen in his place. Even though the only punch that had been thrown wasn't his, he declared himself the winner.  
  
'Jean 's the best,' Jean reassured himself. 'He didn't fight back because he was afraid,' he nursed his injured pride. 'That's right. Jean 's the best...'  
  
To be continued...  
  
AN: I decided this was a good place to end this chapter since most of it is contained within the series. So what do you think so far? Please review! 


	3. Add On: Denial

Disclaimer: I don't own Geneshaft or any of it's characters!

AN: Per the requests for add a space between paragraphs I'll be changing the format of earlier chapters as well! Special thanks to Minamoto Miyuki, MistressCoCoLoVeR, RianSapphite9, and Ludra-Jenova for reviewing! Thanks to much!

Chapter 3: Add On: Denial

Days passed as though nothing had changed. Jean sat ideally in his dorm room as he watched his class mates leave the academy. Each on their merry way to their quaint little homes. Up until this point in their lives most of the students had lived at home and comminuted to the academy. The other students were finally old enough to cut the ties with their parents and move into the on campus dorms. He leaned back in the wood chair, its aged frame creaking in protest. He had been living at the academy for several years now. After the untimely demise of his parents, it was decided that he would simply live on campus with the older students. 'Its not like there was anywhere else for them to stick me,' he thought bitterly.

Finding himself trying to recall their faces, Jean let his eyes relax and shift out of focus. His early memories were starting to fade, slipping away from him. Blurred recollections and fleeting images were all he could identify as being his parents. Pressing his lips to a thin line, Jean curled his body forward to bring the chair down to rest on all four of its feet with a muffled thump on the carpeted floor. Although its was probably best he forget about them. 'They were probably scum anyway.' Returning back to the abandon computer screen, Jean ran a his hand lazily through his bright mane.

'Its not like any of us are actually related to our parents any more,' Jean mused as the history text which flew across the screen. Pausing the steady flow of information, he scrutinized the current selection on the screen. 'Add on emotions, ne?' Something about the topic always fascinated him. 'If all this is true, then why dose everyone walk around hiding their emotions. That is if we have eliminated all the pointless add on emotions.'

Retracting his slim digit from the computer keys, he smiled to himself as the virtual volume resumed its pace across the screen. 'Jean is the best. He knows that all the scum still have their pathetic, useless emotions. The only on that doesn't have them is Jean. That's why Jean 's the best!' He cheered as he closed the program. Standing from his desk, he laughed softly to the empty room. 'That is why Jean 's the best.'

It would be a few hours before he had have to leave his dorm room to attend the dorm assigning assembly, but the confined space seem to be suffocating him. Despite his posturing he hadn't succeeded in convincing anyone withing hearing distance.

With his superior air in place, Jean strode past the gathering mass of people. At the end of every semester there was gathering of some sort, a kind of parent night for the academy. Sitting confidently in the empty seat he had selected in the far back of the auditorium, he pretended not to even notice the adults which crowded into the building. All their happy faces as they picked out their children and found seats closer to the stage. Its not like he cared that no one sat next to him... in fact... he preferred it, he nodded agreeing with himself. 'Their all scum. Scum and their offspring.' As the seats started to fill, Jean found it harder to stare into space which wasn't occupied anyone. "Why do I have to be here anyway? I already have a dorm room," he muttered under his breath.

Although all room had two beds, each pressed against the opposite wall, the bed adjacent Jean's had been vacant for as long as he could remember. The faculty liked to pair up students of similar ages and genetic 'compatibility.' 'What ever that is supposed to mean,' he let his posture degrade, slipping lower in the chair, a few of the adults hadn't stopped staring at him since he had sat down. He was the best, no one could even come close him. That is why they hadn't found someone the fill in. 'Its not like I would want to share a room with any one of these genetic rejects anyway!' His mental voices starting to argue with each other as the lights started to dim. "Its about time they started," he muttered venomously.

An aged man crept across the stage to the podium. His wrinkled skin and hollowed cheeks were accentuated by the spot light from above. Thinning hair did little to hide his scalp, his hands shaking as he adjusted the microphone. "Students and proud parents-" Jean tuned out the dry, crackling voice and let his eyes examine the silhouettes of the people around him. Catching bits and pieces of the old man's speech, Jean successfully concluded that he was scum as well.

On his left, Jean's gaze fell upon a shadow which hadn't seen who it belonged while the lights were one. Sitting three seats over, he was the closest student in the row. Before he could determine who they were, everyone started clapping. A polite even applauds, typical of formal occasions and long winded speeches, echoed through out the auditorium as everyone started to move. When the lights finally returned to their normal level, whom ever was sitting next to him was gone. Letting out an irritated sigh, Jean stood to leave.

"Your dorm room assignments will be posted in the main hall. All assignments are final,' the aged voice added a final note be hobbled off the stage to mingle with the masses. Shoving his hands into his pockets, Jean breathed incoherent notions of the monumental waste of his time. The slow press of people finally dissipated as he emerged from the bottle neck created by the doors. Running a hand absently through his hair, he resisted the urge to return the looks from students and adults alike around him. Their stares seem to bore into him as he purposely fixed his gaze on the dorm room assignments. Confirming that he hadn't been moved from his current accommodations, Jean didn't bother to check who he was matched up with. 'It doesn't matter. They are all scum.' He brushed it off unable to stand their scrutinizing any longer.

The only one in the hall, Jean walked as quickly as he could without calling attention to himself to escape into the court yard and continue to the dorms. His foot steps echoed through the empty building as he opened his door only long enough to pass though and purposefully close the door before throwing himself down on the bed. He had gone in with out turning on the light or bothering to take off his heavy boots. "Their all scum," he muttered to the mattress as he lay face down. "Jealous scum, why should I care if they were staring at me?" he rolled over to look into the darkness. "I wish I had had parents to show off. They would have been the best parents, " he admitted bitterly. Curling his fingers into the comforter, he contemplated how long the party, if it could be called that, would last before everyone come in search of their new rooms.

Sitting at the edge of his bed, he slipped out of his boots. His ruby eyes falling upon the bed on the opposite side of the room. In the low light, Jean found himself leaning forward trying to see. Was it a strange shadow or was their someone in the bed? Cautiously on socked feet Jean crept across the carpeted floor to the edge of the bed.

His heart pounded in his ears, making it difficult to tell if he could hear someone else breathing or if it was just his own quick breaths. Inhaling deeply, Jean reached out to grab the covers. His sensitive fingertips coming into contact with warm flesh, he bit his lip to keep a surprised cry from escaping as a hand brushed away his inquiring fingers. Taking a few backwards steps, Jean paused. Are they away? He held his breath to hear the slow even breathing of a sleeper. How could they have beaten him back? Letting his breath out in a low hiss, he narrowed his eyes. He had left right after the speech. In that case, why did they beat him back in the first place?

His adjusted eyes could make out the outline of pale skin against the dark bed covers. Glancing around the room, he also noticed the shadows of a few boxes set upon the desk across from his and the pair of boots at the foot of the bed. A mumbled string of words from the apparently sleeping form on the bed made Jean freeze. It was unnerving to discover his habitat had been invaded. Feeling his cheeks flush, Jean wondered if he had heard what he said earlier. 'No they are asleep,' he paused, holding his breath again as more half spoked words emanated from his new room mate. Exhaling, Jean forced himself to finally move.

Removing his jacket, he adeptly tossed it over the back of his chair. His fingers fumbled with the buttons of his white collared shirt as he tried to figure out who exactly was sharing his room. Cursing himself for not checking the roster, he managed to free the last of the buttons and slip out of the shirt. Stepping out his pants, he suddenly became self conscious as the cool night air hit his exposed skin. The last thing he wanted to do was to introduce himself in his boxers and undershirt. Stripping off his socks, he placed all his clothes in his laundry basket.

As quietly as possible, he padded barefoot to his bed. The plush carpet muffling his steps, Jean made it to the bed. 'Why am I'm being so quiet? If my entrance and ranting didn't wake him up then my walking around certainly wont. Just my luck that I would get a room mate that sleeps like the dead.' Pulling back the bed covers and fluffing his pillow, Jean lay down with his back to the room. After what seemed like hours of sleeplessness, he finally rolled onto his opposite side with his back against the wall. 'Its not that I'm afraid of him. I'm just more comfortably like this,' he assured himself as he let his eyes slip closed.

The inky darkness concealed the nearly black pair of eyes that watched him from across the room. The shadows hiding the ghost of a smile as his room mate watched him fall asleep.

To be continued...

AN: Well this chapter is setting everything up so I hope it was at least bearable to read. Please review! Thanks!


	4. Add On: Embarrassment

Disclaimer: I don't own Geneshaft or any of it's characters!

AN: This chapter took a lot of revising. Sorry for the wait! I really had to put some serious thought into this chapter.

Chapter 4: Add On: Embarrassment

The quiet darkness ebbed, Jean groaning in annoyance as the harsh morning sunlight hit his face. 'I must have forgotten to close the drapes,' he muttered, his still half sleeping mind refusing to give it up just yet. Twisting the sheets further, he managed to squirm against the wall, just out of the reach of the offending light. 'I don't have to get up just yet... my alarm hasn't even gone off.' Pressing his face defiantly into the plush of the pillow he refused to look at the clock. If he looked he'd just have to get up that much sooner.

The room was completely silent for a few moments before the gentle swish of air tickled his sensitive ears. The muffled padding of footsteps followed by the soft click of the bathroom door took a little time to register in Jean's sleep dulled brain. 'There is someone in my room...?' Finally opening his ruby eyes, Jean stared across the room at the unkempt bed on the far side. 'There is someone in my room!' Pushing himself up on his elbows, Jean forced his sluggish body to move and sleep fogged mind to clear. The hiss of the shower joined the background noise as he sat up in the bed, still unable to tell who it was.

The cry of his alarm made him nearly jump out of his skin. Its annoying bleating abruptly cut short by a purposeful fist. Taking a deep breath, Jean tried to calm his rattled nerves. Running his hand absently through his ruffled hair, he swung his legs off the bed to rest on the floor. Standing, Jean set about his daily routine of stretching. His rested muscles warming up with the practiced movements. His slim build gracefully moved to the beat of an internal rhythm, the long sweeping motions of his limbs stretching out his sleep stiffened body.

Noticing the steady drown of the shower was no longer present, Jean quickly yanked a pair of nondescript grey sweat pants from his dresser. Pulling them on just in time to hear the door swing open, Jean collected himself before casually turning around. It didn't really matter who it was did it? Everyone was scum anyway. Brazenly looking upon his room mate, Jean found himself gazing into a pair of chocolate eyes, their deep color could have easily been mistaken for black.

"Good morning," unmistakably voice of Mario greeted him. Jean stood speechless. How was this possible? Out of all the students to get for a room mate, Jean was stuck with the most irritating of all the scum. The water still dripping from his ebony hair, Mario stood bare chested, a white towel over his shoulders and a baggy pair of pajama shorts resting on his hips. Suddenly becoming aware he was staring, Jean mentally slapped himself.

"How did I get stuck with scum for a room mate?" he replied to cover his surprise. Quickly putting on his arrogant air, Jean placed a hand on his slim hip to emphasize his question. "Even the best of the scum are still scum I suppose. Since Jean 's the best, I guess you couldn't help being scum," he continued, a smirk tipping the corner of his mouth. Jean waited for a reaction, only to find his bait left untouched. Mario stood unfazed, his even temperament shining through. Frustrated, Jean busied himself by selecting a clean shirt and pants for the day.

Watching Mario out of the corner of his eye, Jean clench his fists as Mario continued seemingly without any inclination of defending himself. Setting aside his clothes, Jean paused to think. Feeling like someone was watching, Jean glanced toward the other as he picked up the small pile of clean clothes from the dresser. Unable to tell if he was being paranoid or if Mario was really watching him, Jean self-consciously decided he would get dressed in the bathroom after his shower. Walking past Mario into the relative safety of the bathroom, Jean venomously cursed the other for getting under his skin, for being scum, and just for being there in general. As the door clicked shut, Jean let out a breath he hadn't realized he had been holding. His chest tight from holding in his frustration, he closed his eyes to take in slow, deliberate breaths, a technique he had used a few times during particularly stressful tests.

Upon opening his blood colored eyes, he stared at his reflection, his opposite-identical twin. As he started to strip in preparation of his shower, he scrutinized his lean form in the mirror. His milky skin, although flawless was pale in comparison to Musicanova's. A tactical disadvantage in extreme heat and sun. His small frame, although strong in itself, couldn't match the other's either. A hand to hand fight would be a statistical fluke at best. 'He's just scum! He's not even close to Jean!' Gnashing his teeth together, he jerked the shower door open he paused to take one last search of his reflection, to find some redeeming quality he had missed. Only finding more flaws he hastily stepped through the portal. The air within, still moist and warm from the previous shower, momentarily seemed suffocating. 'Jean 's the best!' He turned the knob of the shower with a less than gentle twist. The steaming water which pelted him was nearly scolding his fair skin, flushing as it was exposed to the intense temperature.

His red and white hair lay plastered to his drenched skin as he stood under the shower. The water rained down upon him, wishing it would wash away his imperfections. Racking his hands through his water logged hair, Jean tried to think of nothing. 'Nothing, just focus on perfect nothingness.' The sting of the water grew more intense as he lingered in its onslaught. Finally relenting, he turned the shower off, his skin throbbing as it radiated heat. Stepping from the shower, he snatched a towel from its place on the rack and fastidiously scrubbed at his tender skin. Working his way up, the dampened towel finally came to rest a top of head. The mirror, now fogged by the extended period of steaming, was no longer a source of agitation. The fuzzy images its reflected could not point that the water had effectively washed away his flaws or not. He preferred to think it had.

Letting his trade mark smirk tip of the corner of his mouth, Jean dressed himself in silence, his ears straining to hear his room mate. Buttoning the last button on his white shirt, Jean gave his damp hair one last rub with the towel before opening the door. The wild tufts of hair sticking up in some places, down in others, and curiously out in odd directions framing his face. Letting his ruby eyes sweep the room, his gaze came to rest on his source of irritation.

Mario lay, seemingly asleep, upon his freshly made bed. His hands folded comfortably behind his head, his knees were bent and legs crossed, one leg casually crossed on top, the foot left to hang in mid air. Headphones over his ears, the only indication that he was awake was the casual sway of his foot to some inaudible beat. Peering down at him, Jean pondered his gene type. Was it possible they were the same gene type? Is that what was so irritating? Jean searched his memory for Mario's gene type. The recent memory came back to him; Mario was orange, Jean himself was red. Despite that fact Mario had decided to waste time listening to music, Jean tried to rationalize his behavior. 'What is he smiling about?' Jean arch an eye brow and inquisitively leaned closer, trying to hear the music Mario was listening to.

The tiny smile and lightly closed eyes of Mario was nothing less than radiant, the kind of smile Jean couldn't place. It had been a long time since Jean had had an opportunity to observe anyone so closely. The shadow of a bruise which marred the tanned skin of his rival drew Jean's attention. The darkened area seemed to point an accusation toward Jean. Best or not, he was not in complete control of himself. He hadn't entirely meant to strike Mario, but it made him feel better at first.

The up beat music which barley reach Jean's ears picked up its pace into a frenzied rhythm. Feeling his heart speed up as though in reply, Jean drew in slow, quiet breaths to try and calm himself. The fascinating nature of the expression drummed up numerous explanations on Jean's part to the cause. The music's beat drew to a close, Jean finding himself a bit closer than he had originally intended to Mario. A moment's hesitation was all fate needed to intervene. Mario's alarm clock burst the silence like a balloon. In an instantaneous adrenaline rush, Mario had tried to sit up, Jean was caught.

Despite the annoying ring of the alarm, both stood frozen. Their lips touched but bodies frozen, they remained like Pompeii's statutes. Jean was first to recover. Withdrawing as though burned, his face flushed and chest heaved as he stood in the middle of the room. Mario turned off the alarm, the room quickly returning back to its silence. The side long glance Jean received was that of a unflustered Mario, but the tense muscles of his shoulders and blush strained cheeks seemed to point in the opposite direction.

"Disgusting!" Jean turned away, whipping his mouth on the back of his sleeve. "Who knows what kind of illnesses I might contract!" Avoiding look directly at the other, Jean tried perhaps a little too hard to act repulsed, his words dripped with over exaggeration. 'Why is my body reacting like this?' Jean tried to fill the silence so that Mario would not think to ask why exactly he had been standing so close in the first place. 'Why isn't he saying anything?' When Mario didn't answer, Jean pieced together the nerve to look at him. 'That smile. He is smiling again!' Doing his best to glare, Jean narrowed his eyes at the other youth. Letting himself fall back in the bed with a thump, Mario returned to listening to his music, the mysterious smile still on his face. 'That's it? No comment... Of corse, what was Jean expecting from scum like him?' Jean watched as the other relax, his own heart pounding against his rib cage.

Slipping into the chair of his desk, Jean busied himself by open the text file he had been reading the day before. Feeling the heat leave his face, Jean focused on reading as more of a distraction then actually learning anything from it. Occasionally looking back Mario again became a source of annoyance. 'That smile, what is he smiling about!?' His curiosity mixed with new emotions to come full circle to one he knew well. His temper slipped away, the narrow grasp he had on it doing little to wrestle control back. Memories of being teased flooded back into Jean's mind. His early childhood had been something he had tried to forget.

His mood swings and undergoing of evaluation by the government and administration had always been something that started rumors of insanity around the school. He was one or the experimental elites and was monitored as such. His high skill level had been the target of the experiments, he was not the only one that was specifically altered for the purpose. The mocking smiles of his tormentors flashed before his eyes. He had been too small, too shy they to do anything. They smiled at him, mocking him, hurting him.

Knocking the chair to the ground, Jean glared at Mario who now sat up on his elbows. In one fluid motion pouncing upon Mario was more of a reaction than a conscious move. Unmatched speed and agility tensed his muscles and readied him to fight as his wrathful scarlet gaze bore down into his prey. Poised straddling the confused youth, Jean's fist balled and ready to strike. Caught by surprise, Mario lay perfectly still, flush against the bed, his headphones had slipped sideways when Jean had attacked. 'Is he really mentally unstable?' Mario questioned, the fleeting rumors seemed closer to fact now more than they had when he had originally heard them.

Mario's self defense mechanisms slapped into place. Twisting violently away from the wall, Mario sent them both over the edge of the bed, tumbling onto the floor, Jean's head glancing off the bed frame on the way down. Mario's powerful grip already had hold of Jean's shoulders before they hit the ground, leaving him no opening to escape. Slamming into the carpet with the added weight of Mario on top of him, Jean gasp a breathless cry of pain. The air knocked from his lungs, Jean lay dazed his vision swirling. Mario's hair fell forward, shadowing his eyes. Wriggling, but unable to free even one of his hands, Jean was pinned completely helpless against the floor.

"What is your problem?" Mario was first to speak. The calm voice had turned harsh gaining a deeper more threatening tone.

"Get off me!" Jean avoided the question, redoubling his efforts to get free. 'I don't have to explain myself to you!' He thought rebelliously. Bearing down on him with all his weight, Mario could see the twinge of pain flicker across the Gedoux's face. "Its none of your business! I said get off!" Struggling until he was nearly gasping for air, Jean glared up at his captor. His gut twisted suddenly, a sickening feeling like he had done this before. The line of blood which started to make its way down his face sent a chill down his spine as it started to cool. 'Is he going to just sit there?'

Jean's imagination started to run worst case scenarios. Beatings and severe retribution, was death a possibility? Though not in Mario's initial nature, it seemed easily feasible in Jean's mind. Though held down by Mario's weight advantage fear started to paralyze his body. His breathing seemed chocked, although he would not admit it was sobbing, he held his breath to stifle the noise. Willing himself not to let a tear fall he failed as tried to find his fate in the bronzed depths of Mario's eyes.

A smile touched the corners of Mario's lips. Like a smile you would give a scolded child which shied away. His eyes softened, although not sure why he could forgive the psychotic boy beneath him. Perhaps it was part of his nature, in his genes, that he could forgive. Standing, he could hear the first bell toll across the campus.

"We should hurry up, or we'll be late." Mario offered a hand, only to have it slapped away. Jean stood, his back ridged, face turned down and away to hide the trails of tears. Shrugging it off, Mario walked to the door and casually opened it. For only being room mates for less than a day, they certainly had their share of problems to work out...

To be continued...

AN: What did you think? I hope no one is too OOC. Please review!


	5. Add On: Self Destruction

Disclaimer: I don't own Geneshaft or any of it's characters!

AN: Ah well, its been a while since I've post a new chapter. I've been putting some real thought into how this fic will evolve into something resembling a plot. After watching the series again I decided to wave the fic through a few other events. Beware the spoilers from here on out. You have been warned. Also added a new but very cannon couple, Mir/Sergi.

Chapter 5: Add On: Self Destruction

Thunk, fwomp. The repetitive two step dance of the students of the afternoon physical training echoed in the gym. The spring bored slapped down again before launching another into the air, a lateral spin adding to the difficulty level of the exercise. Followed by a knee jarring impact, planting both feet firmly into the matted flooring. The blue hue of the matting was criss-crossed white lines, marking the landing area which gauged for the accuracy of each of the students.

A middle aged woman bearing the characteristic choker of a register stood watch, her fingers flew over her portable computer, logging the scores mercilessly, without a word of encouragement. She simply stated the scores, allowing for all to hear, her pleasant voice transforming into a weapon which clutched at the ego of each student. A very cruel class indeed to have as a last period.

Jean stood ready at the end of the runway. The white tank-top and deep blue shorts allowed him optimum mobility. His eyes flashed as he carefully envisioned the next few seconds. His bare feet rubbed against the textured floor, his mental preparation nearly complete. Rising up on the balls of his feet, his muscles tensed, his mind completely focused. The gym grew quiet as everyone watched the number one student prepare for his short flight. He knew everyone was watching, including Mario.

Taking a last moment to bunch his muscles, collect his energy, he leapt into a full speed sprint. His heart rate climbed higher, the powerful muscle pounded to supply the body its suddenly exponential demands. Perfect timing, he jumped into the air his knees gathering ready for the next step. As the board compressed, he simultaneously extended his legs, giving him an extra boost into the air. The rapid spins were kept tight, compact, his body carving a smooth arch in the air. Coming out of the spin just in time, he prepared for the impact. Landing neatly within the white lines, Jean's knee flashed with a heated pain. The stress of extra practice sessions were was taking its toll on his body. Masking the pain, he stood from his nearly perfect landing, completing his exercise with a victorious smile.

"J. Gedoux, ninety-seven point four per cent." The register turned her attention back to the screen before noting the score. The envious mummers which spread through the other students were Jean's applauds. That had been the best run all yet. Walking back to the group of students, he willed his knee to stop it's throbbing. Mario was next, the initial order which they took their turns was decided by their previous scores. A serious air settled over the Musicanovan, his muscles twitching in anticipation.

Waiting in the shadow of the door way, Jean paused before entering the locker room to watch Mario's final run. The rush of air filled the silence as the dark haired youth charged down the runway. His jump onto the spring bored launched him into the air, seeming to hold the high altitude for a unusually long time as he spun. His plant was flawless, the energy transfer into the ground was fluid, graceful. Watching from the shadows, Jean felt a cord of pride ringing within him. His rival was indeed one of the best, only making it all the more enjoyable to trounce him. Mario stood in perfect form for a brief moment of serine silence before the group of students ruined the moment. Clenching his teeth, Jean watch in frustration as Mario received a congratulatory applaud from their peers.

"M. Musicanova, ninety-five point zero per cent." Her wicked voice hollowed Jean's pride. How he hated that women, a lowly register. A fleeting thought of the exquisite sounds her bones would make as her neck snapped flittered out of his mind as his eyes met his rival's. Why did his imagination not supply a fitting demise for Mario? Narrowing his eyes, they exchanged looks, a silent dialog passing between them. Much like dogs who circled and snapped, they watched the other with a suspicion that they would make the first move. Turning away, Jean stormed into the locker room.

'Why did I want to watch that scum anyway?' He noted the contradiction of his question. The tables had suddenly turned, Mario was the best in yet another test, their grand total of skills tests growing closer. It had been very gradual but Mario was improving, slowing graining the upper hand. A knot twisted over in the pit of his gut, there was nothing more he could do to keep his lead. He was already spending more time practicing than sleeping and still he was losing. His future suddenly seemed like bleak place. Second best wasn't good enough. 'Only one can be the best and the rest are scum.'

Hurriedly changing into his uniform, he stuffed the shorts and shirt into the small locker before forcefully shutting the metal portal. Sitting on the bench, he shoved his feet into his boots, his mind tangling thought-threads until he felt slightly ill. Jean retrieved his jacket and walked down the hall to the paper library. The older building was completely void of life, it was always available to students, although few ever used it. The thick volumes which filled every shelf from wall to wall and were jammed into row upon row of freestanding bookshelves were never used. Each and every book had been digitized and was accessible by every computer world wide. No one wrote books any more. It was a waste of man power and the government had ear-marked it as a, though small, cause of the decay of society up until the 21st century.

Sitting down at one of the large tables, Jean relaxed in his paper sanctuary. Since Mario had moved in, he always had to be on his toes. This was the only place no one visited. He occasional browsed the vast jungle, in fact he had found so called 'band' books on the shelves. Volumes that were deleted from the general digital archives reduced to only still existing in the dense shadows, hiding in the shear numbers of other books. On the few and far between times he opened one of the musty covers to read. He would hide away in the back of the library in the same manner than some of the books hide. Away from everyone, where no one could see.

"Hello," A voice invaded the sacred grounds. Peering around a stack of mismatched books, Jean spired a tall blonde youth. A few years older than he was for sure, placing him between 18 and 20. Piercing blue eyes searching, from under his flaxen bangs. Tucked under his arm was a relatively slim leather bound book. His height was accentuated by the khaki slacks and vest he wore over a pale blue dress shirt. "I'm sorry I didn't mean to be intrusive. I didn't realize anyone still visited this place besides myself." He paused before finishing. "My name is Sergi Sneek."

Standing, Jean quickly realized who he was addressing. "I am Jean Gedoux. It is an honor," Jean bowed to the one who carried the title of Lord Sneek IV. His genes were indeed the closest to perfect Jean had ever heard of. In a way he was what Jean had aspired to be. "What brings you here? Last I heard you were over seeing the training of someone." A weak smile joined a far away look upon the Lord Sneek.

"I was, but it seems there has been a change in plan. I am here to return a book." Quietly handing the book to Jean, Sergi turned to leave, his eyes meeting Jean's for a fleeting moment. A register waited quietly in the hall way. Her hair was of a bluish hue, eyes big but without emotion. There was something there in them, something one could not say was emotion. "It was nice to meet you, Jean Gedoux." As he stepped from the library into the hall the door swinging shut of its own accord. The register rested her hand upon her holster, slim fingers gripping the stock.

'What going on?' Jean stood frozen at the twisted event he was to bare witness to unfolded. He couldn't move, he didn't understand what was happening. As the heavy door shut, the spell was broken. "Wait!" Running to the door, he grab the cold knob. Three shorts rang out from the other side of the barrier. Hand against the metal of the door, Jean could feel his body quiver as he questioned whether to open the portal. He knew what it must be on the other side of the door.

Only those who had a purpose were alive. If they thought one was weak or was no longer useful... well there were hole-filled rumors that his imagination could make air tight. Registers followed all the males, after they turned 16. It was decided that the violent nature of their genes could not be irradiated and there fore had to be watch. The pistols those vigilant dolls carried were a means of stopping a male which had stepped too far out of line. But, here? The Lord Sneek?

His hand shook as he eased the door open. The register stood with her side to the door. Her face still like a porcelain mask, she looked upon her handy work. A few tense moments, he looked past the register to the body of the Lord Sneek the third face down upon the hall way floor. Blood had already begun to pool, the puncture wounds in his back flawlessly placed between his shoulder blades. She watched him for a few moments before replacing the pistol in its holster.

He had never seen death so closely. The fleeting moments he had met his role model were suddenly very distant. Closing the door, Jean pressed his back against the door. He can't be seeing this. Something is very wrong here. The Lord Sneek only answered to the highest committee of the government. Jean ran over what had happened over in his mind. He must be dreaming, having a horrible nightmare. Was that how it would end for him? The register must be insane, that is the only explanation.

His eyes came to rest on the tinny leather bound volume he still held, the one that had been returned. Twisting the lock on the door to try and appease his panicking mind, Jean tried to collect himself. He must have known Sergi for less than minute and yet this was becoming exceedingly more difficult to think through rationally. Slipping down the door, Jean pulled his knees up to his chest.

Voices from the other side of the door came muffled by the thick barrier. The knob was tested, Jean holding his breath until they left. In the growing darkness of the evening, Jean waited. All becoming oppressively quiet. His eyes fixed on the unusual book. All of the books in the library had finished covers with decorative spines. Yet this volume had no title, its plain cover appeared slightly worn. Why did he read this book? That moment where he made eye contact made him feel that this book was important. Reach an inquisitive hand out to grasp the book's cover, he retracted it as the knob was tested again. The metallic rattle of keys knocked against the knob.

Grasping the book in his adrenaline rush, Jean retreated into the recesses of the library. Among the stacks of books, where there was a dark corner of the room where the wall cases stopped a few feet shy of the corner he hid. He didn't want to be found. What if they did the same to him? If they killed Lord Sneek, they surely wouldn't care about a student. Clutching the book against his chest, he huddled down with his back against the end of the book case.

Shutting his eyes he listened. The vast expanse of the library making it difficult to hear. They were looking, he knew they were. The shadows of the book cases grew longer, the sun was setting now. His pounding heart slowly began to still. The perspective of death sent him into a cold sweat. He didn't want to die. His legs were starting to cramp from staying in the tight space. When the door shut again, he peered out from his hiding spot to be sure they were gone. A half-hearted laugh, little more than whisper was his sigh of relief.

A strange chain of events had left Jean with a book and a memory seared into his mind. Looking out into the hall way, he could see the patch of bloody carpet, his stomach twisting again. He felt he would never return to the library again or he would he ever be the same as he walked quickly toward his dorm room. Catching his foot on a uneven section of pavement, he stumbled, breaking him out of his deepening thoughts. Catching himself, the throbbing in his knee flared with a vengeance. It was so unrealistic, he must really be going hallucinating.

Thank full Mario hadn't returned yet from dinner, Jean lay in the darkness, the book still held against his chest. He some how felt obligated to keep the book, its contents still unknown, he lay still.

Flicking the light on, Jean opened the book slowly, cautiously. Finding page after page of hand written journal, Jean turned it to the to the place marked by a pink ribbon sandwich between the pages and began to read:

Mir had progressed fast than I could have ever imagined. As with each day she becomes more beautiful. Her beautiful hair is soft under my touch. I feel toward her emotions which I do not understand, but do not know how I lived without them. But now the council feels that these emotions are dangerous. Mir has been sent on a mission far from me and I am to visit the academy. I feel that time is short now, I know of the two that came before me. To whom ever reads to the end of my entries. This journal had been kept by three people which will within these covers be known as Sergi Sneek I, II, and myself, III. We all have feelings for Mir which the council found were grounds to kill my predecessors and by now surely I am dead as well. I can accept this because Mir will live on. I feel that I love, the archaic term seemingly the only thing to align this with, her. It in itself a fact that I am realizing too late and my hopes are that the one who comes after me will not do the same. This book is the proof that I existed.Sergi Sneek III

Closing the book, Jean studied its plain leather binding. This was the first book written in hundreds of years. Unsure if he could swallow what the book was implying, he suddenly felt as though he had read something he should not have. This book had not been kept on computer so it could not be deleted. It was proof, an undeniable piece of evidence.

Mario ambled down the deserted walkway. The evening air growing nippy, it's wind cutting through the uniform's jacket. He had not seen Jean since the end of school, in fact he hadn't come to dinner. It wasn't like he could have just managed to not see the red head. Mario had wanted to talk to him. He had seen very little of the Gedoux, the other returned to the dorm after Mario had turned off the lights and rose before Mario woke up, painfully obvious he was avoiding him. Despite the fact they had most of their classes together, Jean had managed to place himself as far from the other as was possible.

Although from the little he had seen of Jean, Mario had noticed a significant change. Darkening circles under those ruby colored eyes and seeing progressively less of him at meals mounted up to tonight, where he didn't show up at all. Returning back to were he had last seen him only seemed logical. As he walked pasted the gym, he glanced in. The double doors had been left slightly ajar letting a shaft of soft light fall onto the pavement of the walkway.

Noticing the unique person in question sprawled on their back, Mario opened the door further. Jean lay arms out, chest rising and falling heavily, his body shining with a sheen of sweat upon the a blue floor mat. Eyes closed and mouth open, the gym was completely quiet save for his breathing. Crossing the short distance, Mario stood over him observing his condition for a moment. His face was pale, normally fair skin seemed slightly ashen. His unruly hair stuck to his face, body seemingly listless. Letting his eyes wash over the other, his brow knitted as he came upon an angry bruise. It's purple-ish mass swirled around Jean's left knee in moon shaped semi-circle below the knee cap.

"Hey." Mario's eyes focused back on Jean's face. Red eyes snapped open, startled by the unexpected greeting.

"What do you want?" he shot back venomously. Sitting up, trying ignoring the pain that shot up his leg. Gingerly running his fingers over the injury, Jean moved to stand only to stumble as he tried to put weight on it. Shoving the other away as Mario reflexively offered assistance, he ended up back on his rump with a stinging flop. Shrugging in a put off fashion, Mario continued by stucking his hands into his pockets.

"I was curious where you ran off to since you didn't show up to dinner." He was well aware his help wasn't wanted. It was strange, Mario had been under the impression that health and top performance was Jean's top priority. But the thinning of his already lean frame, showed a soft under belly of pushing himself beyond his limits, expectations of perfection of a less than perfect body.

"What do you know? I wasn't hunger." Standing up, putting most of his weight on his uninjured leg, Jean was quickly becoming aware of how empty his stomach felt. 'What does he care anyway? I'm surprised he even noticed I wasn't at dinner,' Jean thought bitterly. Unable to hide his limp, Jean avoided eye contact with the other as he made his way out. Picking up Jean's abandon uniform by the door, Mario followed after the wounded teen.

They walked quietly side by side down the deserted walk way for short a time. The pain becoming unbearable, Jean was forced to pause against one of the many pillars along the walk way. The darkness was swallowing the last of the sunlight as Jean collected his nerve. "You know that you can't continue in this manner for much longer," Mario stated, his voice even and low. "Its becoming obvious that you are wearing down your body." Straightening his back, Jean shot him a chilling glare.

"What difference does it make to you!?" Pushing off the pillar, Jean limped on, half stumbling to the next pillar. With his hand firmly pressed against the stone, Jean stood with his back to his rival. "No one cares! They only listen if you are the best," he murmured, his voice losing its edge, Jean wanted to run, this vulnerability that Mario could evoke was unnerving. It left him exposed, transparent.

Jean tensed as two strong arms wrapped around his narrow shoulders. Drawing him away from the stone column, he back came to rest against Mario's broad chest. Thankful that the darkness hide his flush, Jean stood in silence, unable to speak. Mario's mouth drew to a thin line as he merely tested the real extent of how thin Jean was becoming. The embrace no more affectionate on the darker one's part then a hand shake or formal greeting. 'Why hasn't anyone noticed?' Mario knew that Jean was checked regularly for the sake of the government's precious. 'They wouldn't just let him waste away, would they?' Letting his head rest against the other, he could feel the small frame shiver against him.

To be continued...

AN: The plot thickens.... like over cooked Jello! XD I really started in on the Mario/Jean relation and Jean hate of registers. Hope I didn't OOC anyone too badly. Please review! The reviews really are one of the main forces that keep me to a story.


	6. Fragile Body

Disclaimer: I don't own Geneshaft or any of it's characters!

AN: Its been a little while hasn't it? Ah well I've been meaning to continue this story for some time, I really have. I just haven't had the time and inspiration together to do it.

Chapter 6: Fragile Body

They met again, opponents in their physical education class. Jean stood in full fencing gear, his mask tucked under his arm and foil in hand. The stark white jacket and knickers made his crimson hair and matching eyes glow. His body ached making him more than grateful that this was the last match of the day. It was the last match before he could retreat from this place, from these people always watching him. They tournament style set up had put each pair of opponents on strips on small courts that doubled as racket ball rooms. No register was necessary due to the automatic score keeper that each fencing hooked up to. They were alone in the room, but there was always someone watching from the observation deck above.

Mario stepped onto the strip, he by score ranking set him to be Jean's opponent. Their ranking was nearly even now. The redhead's deteriorating condition had started to reflect in his scores. Mario eyed the thin form before him. In some way he felt guilty, he needn't but try a little harder to advance where Jean was seemed to be unable to accept that he couldn't. His body could not move faster, be stronger, in its current state. Their confrontations had taken on a different personality all together after that night. Jean tried to distance himself, cut off talking to Mario all together since that day he had been caught practicing late in the gym. The arrogance that radiated off the small boy had dimmed. He avoided eye contact at times, hiding himself. The mask had started to crumble with his body.

The two quickly exchanged nicities that were customary with the ancient sport and slipped their masks on. Jean was the first to advance, his small steps quickly eating up the distance between them. He wanted this to be over quickly. Mario waited, shifting his weight forward. Reading his opponent was his best tool and he used it well. Jean snapped his blade against Mario's in a beat attack and drove forward in a lunge. Mario had seen it coming, his blade returning with a parry and clean reposed, catching Jean mid lunge, unable to retreat.

Point Mario. "What's eating you?" Mario posed the question quietly as they disentangled to reset. He could feel the glare from Jean more than see it through the mask. They started again, Jean advancing again. Mario retreated, keeping the distance between them. His reach was longer than Jean's and he would press the advantage as much as possible. Jean continued, shortening his steps to keep right of way. Mario dropped his foil, changing his possible line of attack. Jean snapped at the opening in Mario's guard only to have his blade deflected at the last minute. Mario's blade depressed painfully against his collar bone. The jacket and under armor may help, but it still hurt to receive a blow at such close range. Mario straightened his blade, its tip bent a bit from the last attack.

They stood facing each other again. Each absorbed in the perfection of their form. Jean advanced again, but as he went to lunge his foot stopped short, caught momentarily on the floor disrupting his moment and balance as the same time. Mario moved forward as though to catch the falling form. The cry of the buzzer brought Mario back to the match. Jean smirked from his crouched position on the floor. He had tripped unintentionally, but the opening in Mario's guard had been so baltent that he merely extended when he stepped forward. His knees stung from being driven into the floor, but he had won the point.

"How about a bet?" Jean challenged, his voice low to keep from being over heard by the on lookers. "I win you leave me alone," The shorter boy growled, more under his breath than aloud. "Keep you hands out of my business." He added quickly. He could see how Mario operated now. He could beat it.

"And if I win?" Mario eyed the other.

"That wont happen," Jean answered. He returned to his guard line. This match was two out of three and he was confident that he could come back and snatch victory with the next point. His knees protested his guard stance but they could be forced to cooperate. Again they started, although Mario took the lead this time. His longer strides bringing him nearly on top of his opponent in a split second. Their blades met, the metallic clang rang out over the hushed observers. The snap of Mario's blade had been deafening, but that was not why Jean stood silently looking at it.

He had bound Mario's blade on the advance and lunged his counter attack, but the other's blade had struck his guard with such force that the tip and a three inch section of the blade broke clean off. The jagged edge of the now shortened blade sliced through the air and protective jacket that Jean wore. Physics had taken over, the momentum behind the point had carried it to its final resting place where it now was. Jean's blade slipped from his grip, striking the ground and rolling away from the scene. The pain, the horrifying pain was rushing in to fill his blanked mind. He staggered back, the blade slipping free from the wound, its grip still clutched in Mario's hand. He pushed the mask off with little care for the noise it made as it hit the ground.

'This can't be happening,' Jean touched the dampening material of his jacket, his own mask slipping off to the floor. The stark white was quickly darkening to a red, its mat material gaining a slick, shiny property. His knees buckled, blood rushed up into his mouth. Some where in the back of his mind he noted that it must have pierced his stomach or lung. It was hard for him to focus on where exactly the blow had landed, his gaze focued on the reddened fingertips of his glove trying to understand what exactly was happening. The world around him was reduced to the pounding in his ears and the too bright lights that flooded the room. His body pitched backward involuntarily, its state of shock rendering it listless. His desent stalled short of the flood, he had been caught by his rival.

Jean could see his lips moving, but what he was saying was lost in the drumming of his heart beat. Mario would then turn and call out to the room or someone beyond his field of vision before turning back and continue to speak to Jean himself. Had he really been that badly injured? It was getting hard to breath. He wanted to cough, rid his lungs of this weight that was gaining pressure in his chest, but he felt too tired to do so. A clear thought suddenly broke through the surface of his spinning mind. The fear of death that lay dormant in his perceived invincibility of youth screamed to life. His mind bitterly lashed out, Mario had brought him to this. His eyes welled up and spilled over as he could only stare up at Mario's shadowed form.

"You must be happy," Jean uttered, blood burbling over his lips with the last syllable.

Mario paused misentence, his voice caught in his throught. The medical team hadn't come yet, someone must have seen them on the monitors by now. He never intended to hurt anyone, the pit stomach falling out as he watched Jean struggling to stay awake. Although the wound wasn't very big, it had opened a substantial hole all the way through the tender tissue of Jean's abdomen just below the bottom of his ribs. Mario pressed his hand over it, trying to stop the bleeding. 'Happy? How could I be happy?'

"Hey! Hey, stay awake!" Mario shook the other, watching his eyes flutter shut again.

To Be Continued...

AN: Ah well, a note about this chapter. I'm a fencer, but I tried to make it clear what was happening even to people that don't fence. Fencing it a relatively safe sport. I myself have never seen anyone serious injured fencing although I've heard stories about broken blades hurting people.


End file.
